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A Long Road to Fortune/Issue 35
This is the fifth issue in Volume 6 of A Long Road to Fortune. It is titled Rue. Issue 35 The sun brings down its fury on him as he continues his highly important duty-- tail Scorpion and El Kanguro back to their whereabouts. While his stealth has been uncanny so far, Pepe sweats in return. This is a first for him, patrolling the national avenue down the ruined town of Tecpan. As he exits the main town, he jogs to match his pace with the cartel hit men. Seemingly free of infected, Pepe loses no focus to think about the fact that the grosero numbers are dwindling down, it escapes his mind. He’s gripping a knife on his left hand just in case an uninvited guest shows up to try and take out his reconnaissance. Pepe isn’t shocked by what he sees as his surroundings; toppled over cars, smashed windows on the few houses leading out of town, and of course the uncommon corpse or two claiming each corner. El Kanguro and Scorpion lead on ahead, completely unaware of Pepe’s presence. The distance between Pepe and the two is that of about 30 feet, enough for him to keep a close eye on them while also enough to keep himself from being spotted. The hit man duo does its best to quickly avoid contact with the few groseros they see, shoving them out of the way if they get too close. While this was no problem for them, it proved to be more than just a little troublesome for Pepe. Still, even with the few grunts the corpses made while lunging themselves at Pepe, one’s that should give his presence away, are completely ignored by the cartel muscle. The objective proves to be too much of a mindful distraction, something Pepe takes advantage of as he quietly sinks his knife into an incoming grosero’s forehead. The corpse slowly falls limp as Pepe slowly retrieves his knife from the temple, the little swish sound sticking to a minimum of noise. After this, Pepe catches the corpse before it thuds and gently places it on the searing hot street. El Kanguro and Scorpion come to a halt and take a moment to plan out their next move. They peek forward and see the collapsed bridge. Its debris and ruins fell on the river below, blocking the natural flow of the water. By now, moss has begun to form on the parts closest to the water and the flow varies depending on how much of the bridge blocks the river’s current in each spot. Another key aspect of the structure is the presence of groseros. Due to the uneven path of the ruins, many of these atrocities are caught between cracks and openings between the ruins, those groseros that attempted to cross the river through the ruins. This is what made getting across the structure such a difficult and somewhat daunting task. If you were to slip just once, your foot might get caught in a hole, and in that said hole, a grosero might lay. El Kanguro and Scorpion begin to scale the ruins, cautiously and slowly. Having been disarmed by Mendoza and Texta, they couldn’t use them as last resorts to dispatch such beasts. Pepe hides behind a rundown rusty old car as he sees the pair begin their move. Once they’re in far enough, Pepe moves contemplates his options. Following both men through the bridge would be way too risky and would be his downfall. All it will take is for El Kanguro or Scorpion to look back for one second to see Pepe, and then who knows how much this conflict would escalate thanks to that. Not to mention that he couldn’t try to hide in a hole as well or he’d be a beefy meal. So to the side of the bridge he turns his attention. The river is low there and a great place to walk from it. If only there were less reanimated bodies walking around there. Regardless, his footsteps will blend in with those of the groseros, so the hit men will not be able to sense foul play. It’s a risky maneuver but it’s the only one that will suffice. Pepe waits about two minutes and sees that the cartel besties are nearly through, which is his cue to continue. Pepe retraces his steps and turns back for a moment, where he turns to his left and to a small downward path, one that leads to the river. Finally there, Pepe takes each step with care and proceeds. Killing groseros on the side is an easy effort and he quietly tosses each body out of his way. Soon he’s through and breathes in relief. “Come on Javier, the patron will have our asses if we don’t put some boot to our speed. Andale cabron.” Scorpion urges him. El Kanguro doesn’t respond, and Scorpion doesn’t expect him to either. Hell, the guy does not even bother to look back at El Kanguro when he says that, to add to it. “Tch. Too bad we can’t waste these pendejos. Fucking pricks took our guns.” he adds. “We do not shoot for fun…” El Kanguro responds. Scorpion just shrugs. “Just-- fuck. It’s fun for me, but whatever.” he stops there. More talking would only bring the unarmed men more attention, unwanted attention at that. Nowadays, there was no such thing as “wanted” attention. Hell even before, attention only meant you were a target. For what however, wasn’t the question. “For what not?”, sure as hell was the right thing to ask instead, will be for eternity. Pepe’s made it through the bridge at this point, and the cartel men don’t escape his sights. Scorpion and El Kanguro continue forward, not stopping. The sun is getting to all three of the men, but it’s just something that they have to put up with. In fact, all three of them wipe the sweat from their foreheads simultaneously, without even realizing it! “This is some of the toughest recog I’ll ever have heheh…” Pepe thinks to himself. Tracking these two “experts” in itself is simple, easy really. There are just too many factors obstructing this operation. Following them for what seems to be 10 more minutes, the three men have since passed the prepa and also the town of El Suchil, where Francisco and Daniel hail from, the latter’s family owning a farm there. That’s when Pepe sees it, a vehicle. It’s surrounded by groseros, causing both hit men to curse. Pepe hides back and sees them contemplate. El Kanguro uses some hand signals to tell Scorpion to lap around the infected while El Kanguro hides off. Pepe sees this plan come into motion. First off, Scorpion calls to their attention with a simple whistle. Heads automatically turn and Scorpion stumbles back while fighting them off with kicks, punches, or shoves. Really, anything to keep their mitts off of him. Scorpion nearly falls back thanks to a stone, but instinct wins the bout. Scorpion turns to it and grabs it, swinging it across the head of the closest grosero. The cracking of its skull sound is music to Scorpion’s ears. “Pinches putos.” he yells, as the more he strikes, the more his body count rises. But the wheels of a car rev and the groseros before Scorpion are completely crushed by the vehicle. It’s a hummer, suited for that kind of thing after all. “Good shit, us two.” Scorpion says in victory. Not even a moment later, Scorpion is already seated next to El Kanguro in the Hummer. The wheels move again, peeling the faces of those groseros underneath them, and soon it drives away. Despite this...Pepe is happy. Anything with a brain can guess where the vehicle is headed, and that is to the town of Tenexpa. Don Tucan is a native there after all, so coming back home to roots after the apocalypse only makes sense. Pepe only has a moment to smile, before realizing that the groseros have found a new target-- him. “Can’t a guy celebrate in peace?” he asks the rhetorical question. Pepe sees no other fit, as he’s now reaching for his satchel, removing his trusty military-issued knife. ---- Elsewhere, two of the most attractive beings the safe zone has to offer are out on a supply run. One doesn’t need to guess that we’re talking about Yuridia Baltazar and Francisco Navaja. Both have their rifles and knives handy for any groseros that might attack them. But most importantly, they each have each other handy as well. They move up the steep Pri community holding each other tightly, giggling like newlyweds. Yuri in particular seems much more lively, and her smile is elevated and warm. She pulls Francisco up the road by his arm as if she were the one with the pair of balls. Yuri actually did possess a pair of figurative balls. Who really could’ve known? “Damn Yuri, either you know where those hidden supplies are, or you’re just really in the mood.” Francisco teases. “You can’t be hurting right?” “Why would I need to hurt? In case you haven’t noticed yet, I’m one of the few lucky women to have her needs provided for around here.” she replies with sass. “Yeah alright Yuri. You know I like it when you take the lead anyway...it’s a side of you people don’t see all that often. I mean, without some tough act in front of it.” “Maybe it’s because I don’t show it to just anybody. To everyone else, I’m defenseless Yuri. ” she winks at Francisco. Few corpses lay behind them and in fact, their weapons are kept not on their hands. Why fear when you have Francisco as your boyfriend or even Yuri as your girlfriend? Then Yuri smiles and turns her head to a small house. With her gorgeous lips, she smiles and points. “That one looks as good as any. We’ll find some cans there for sure.” she adds confidently. “I mean, it’s two stories! I love the paint job too, some artistic stuff, wouldn’t you say?” “As long as it has food, it can look like el Suchil and still be the best house in Guerrero. That’s all I’m going to say.” Frank replies. Yuri nudges him on the arm as a sign of good faith. “Let the fact that not a single monster is surrounding it, mean something good alright honey?” Yuri winks. Francisco scoffs, amused. “Where have you been all my life?” he quietly mutters, before following Yuri into the confines of the all but weary home. That which still stood tall, elegant, and pearly white after more than half a year of abandonment. The first thing both Yuri and Francisco do is the foremost, tap on the wooden walls of the living room. This is rather loud and the sounds echo throughout the entire house. No rustling, no rumbling, no shambling. Just the sounds of empty wind flying in through an open window, all the while a grandfather clock sluggishly ticks and tocks every single moment. Normally, this would be perceived as eerie to a regular human being, but not to Yuri or Francisco. Their company sort of, “abolished” fear. In turn, both gained great confidence in their deeds and demeanor. “Awesome! I’m calling rights to the pantry, Frank. You’re going to have to settle with the fridge.” she shrugs. Francisco smiles wide and shrugs back. “Sure thing Yuridia...that name is really hot, by the way.” “I’m flattered.” she giggles. Yuri proceeds to boost herself up with her tippy toes and reaches the pantry cabinets. Yuri opens both small doors to see a beautiful sight-- four cans of ravioli. Yuri gestures a “yes” and collects the food. She turns to Francisco and shows off her findings. Francisco only raises a lone water bottle, one he found in the fridge. He looks sad because this is presumably all he has found...until he smiles proudly and stands to the side. This reveals an entire 24 pack of water bottles in the fridge. Yuri gasps and covers her mouth with one hand. Francisco grins to her. “Okay okay, you win this one. But there’s more to find around the house, so don’t think you won the war.” Yuri playfully shoves Francisco lightly, who pretends to cower slightly. “Why don’t we uh, take a look up stairs? I’m sure something good’s there.” “Is that really so? You’re up to something…” Yuri says suspiciously, but Francisco plays it cool. “Well, you won’t know unless you get up there, now will you?” his rebuttal. Simple. Yuri pretends to think it over and starts to trot upstairs. As she does this, Francisco smiles sinisterly. But then, Yuri screams. Francisco isn’t worried, not one bit. He follows the scream all the way to master bedroom, where Yuri stands right in front of a white, king-size mattress. The words “Yuri, I Love You” are made up from red rose petals, and they form these words on top of the white mattress. Yuri turns around to see the confident Francisco. He leans on the door with his arms crossed, smiling proudly. Yuri looks at him and bites her bottom lip. “You’re sneaky you know that? This is some surprise...I never expected this from you Frank. You really love me, don’t you?” she smiles up to her cheeks. “What can I say? I’m a simple Romeo man. When I love a woman, I give them the care and dedication they deserve. Specially if they’re the prize...and you Yuri are my prize.” he states, revealing a bottle of wine and two fine glasses behind his feet. “This, all this attention and pampering…a girl can really get used to it all. So why don’t you come right over here-- and show me just how much you love me...” she says seductively, touching Francisco’s bottom lip. He’s enticed alright, and his lustful smile proves this. Even more so when it’s reciprocated. Frank takes one long look at Yuri, before smiling back at the hall, closing the bedroom’s door behind him. ---- Fausto walks alone but safely inside of the zone’s walls. He treks south from the zocalo, to a small basketball court. He walks quite casually, with a laid-back, relaxed charm to it. The posture is straight yet arched back a bit. The arms are loose but not flailing carelessly around. The steps are normal however, giving product to a truly unique walk. Yet Fausto just loves to yawn. Yawn in such a pronounced manner that you’d think him to be tired or even exhausted. But nah, Fausto is just lazy when he’s not doing anything of interest. Mimi Arguello’s steps are coming from a different direction and a different street altogether. There’s more hurry to her pace, and her posture makes her seem very tall. Well, as tall as it can make short little Mimi look. She has her arms raised in level with her chest and never looks back. Mimi’s more worried about making it to her affairs than Fausto ever has been, and it shows. Taking a left, Mimi is walking towards a small basketball court. Yvette on the other hand, sits calmly. Her apparel is one to admire, as it is a dark green dress. Not fancy by any means, just a dress. A small dress that reaches all the way to her heels. A brown basket is set next to her, and she is accompanied by two others. Looking forward, she is staring right at Ashton and Liza. They sit next to each other as all couples should but their expression matches Yvette’s...they’re bored. The chin of Liza’s head is cushioned by her right hand and she sits leaning forward with her legs crossed, resting her right elbow atop her right leg. Ashton keeps his posture straight and both of his arms are kept crossed. He’s slowly dozing off and the struggle he’s undergoing to keep his eyes open shows. Yvette’s glances changes constantly from the ground below her, to Ashton, and to Liza. She’s ecstatic that the Ross and Rachel of her life are finally together yet-- she can’t help but want what they have. But something keeps getting in the way of that, and half of that “something” is herself. After another moment of waiting, the friends speak. “Why is it always just us 3 who get to everything on time? Ugh...the entire town has the same mentality. Just, forget the time you’re supposed to arrive in and just come as you see fit.” Yvette rants. Liza looks up at her with a smile. Throughout the last five months, smiles from Liza Cabrera have become a common sight. This was not only just favorable to everyone around her, but to Liza’s own mental well being as well. Being surrounded by loved ones was, specially in the middle of something like this, was never a bad thing. Quite the opposite, in fact. “It’s alright Yvette, we got plenty of time. It’s barely 1 PM, and they’re probably already on their way.” she replies calmly. This doesn’t reach Yvette, who continues to sigh. “At any second, Fausto or Mimi can pop out of that street and wave to us.” she adds. Yvette was always stressed out thinking about something. Being an academic, it was only natural. When she watches tv, she thinks about how she should be studying. When she goes on the net, same thing. In fact, whenever she has fun of any kind, studying is what she should be doing. Not only that, being a perfectionist can only hold some little perks. Her constant worry about the quality of her work, be it school or simply organizing couch cushions, occupies her mind constantly. Not only that, Yvette couldn’t keep certain about anything really. In short, Yvette just really needs to chill out. Fausto berates her quite often for this, bringing up verbal exchanges between both, of rather unfriendly nature. “I’m sure about that, it’s just-- ugh. Arriving on time is a principle. It should be something done by everyone!” “Everybody is late once in a while though.” Ashton comments. He rubs his eyes with tiresome fury, which is to say none at all. “I mean, I know at least Fausto is getting here soon. Mimi will probably take a few centuries.” Ashton adds. He sees that both Liza and Yvette are looking behind him and Ashton lets a breath out. He then gets ready for the incoming hit. “How many centuries now?!” Mimi yells at Ashton, while crushing the top of his head with her firmly planted fist. Ashton winces in pain and rubs his head. “Okay, maybe not. Sorry Mimi.” he says. “Good!” she replies, looking away from Ashton. Yvette however, keeps looking at Mimi, as does Liza. “Mimi...you forgot to bring the sodas. I thought Texta was going to hand you some…” Yvette says. Mimi grins uncomfortably. “Yeah, well...I sort of drank them last night…” Mimi adds. Liza rolls her eyes, and Ashton turns to look at her like “seriously?”. “But hey, at least we got sandwiches in that basket! So lemme at one, I’m fucking starving!” she exclaims, hoping to take some heat off of herself. That fails however, and the trio sighs once more. “Hey guys...what’s wrong?” Fausto asks. He arrived but a second ago and already he notes the discomfort. “Did Mimi fuck up again?” “Well, she drank all the soda.” Liza says. “Agh, stupid Mimi! There were like 8 cans, I saw them. You go hard on everything you lay your mitts on!” he protests. “Excuse me Dicksto, but look at you arriving last. Plus you were supposed to bring a can of chiles en vinagre! Where the hell are they anyway, huh?” Mimi retorts. “Calm down, I have it right...oh fuck.” he blurts. He feels his empty pocket and sighs. “Nice one, genius!” Mimi goes on. She sticks her tongue out at Fausto. “Really? Come on now! Sticking your tongue out at people? What are you, a grade schooler?” “Alright, alright. Enough of that. Look guys, I planned ahead and asked Valdez to bring some of his own soda. We still don’t get chilis, but at least everyone will get a can of the good stuff.” Ashton says, intervening. This calms the struggle. “Well alright. Good shit Ashton.” Fausto expresses. Mimi isn’t keen on accepting Ashton taking over for her, and says nothing to him while she looks away. Ashton however, thought it was adorable that Mimi had such a childlike attitude about it, so he holds no ill will towards her and just lightly chuckles it off. Hell, Ashton had very little ill will towards anybody that wasn’t A) the cartel, or B) his parents. He is not a scornful soul by any means, especially not now that he’s with the only people left who matter to him. “Well, since we’re all mostly here, why don’t we start eating? Ashton, Paloma, and I went through a lot to find good bread and mayo lying around, not to mention this weird fake ham stuff. And this weird sliced cheese. Eh, still. These might be the last sandwiches we’ll ever have, so savor each bite!” Liza exclaims. “Yeah, right. I’m eating these up with no qualms.” Mimi replies. She leans down and briskly opens the basket and grabs two sandwiches, one in each hand. Then, Mimi sits on the ground next to her gal pal Liza. Liza smiles at Mimi’s enthusiasm at eating, with those massive bites she gives each sandwich. She tires of looking quite fast and grabs a sandwich of her own. Fausto grabs two sandwiches and sits next to Yvette, handing her one of the two. These sandwiches are wrapped in napkins. The big sandwich feast commences and time begins to fly in between the socializing and the eating. Ten minutes later, Valdez arrives, holding a small carton box of soda with him. He smiles and sees that there’s enough sandwiches leftover for him to be able to enjoy a few. “What’s up compadres, y comadres.” he winks at the girls. “Savior Valdez has arrived! I got coke, cherry, Fanta, Fresca, and even a fucking Delaware Punch! So drink up people!” he exclaims. “Thanks man. It’s really great of you to share all of the soda Gustavo gave you to enjoy. You’re the coolest guy.” Ashton greets thankfully. “No problem man. You know I favor the taste of Johnnie anyway.” Valdez smiles. “Yeah Valdez, thank you. We appreciate it.” Liza adds to Ashton’s words. “Thanks bro.” Fausto says. “Yeah, thanks.” Mimi says. Yvette just smiles at him uncomfortably. Truth be told, she isn’t fully used to Valdez’s presence, and has trouble shaking the fact that he used to a juvenile delinquent like Ashton, who she really had a hard time accepting and did so only after months of trying. This didn’t mean that Yvette didn’t think that he wasn’t a good guy, she is just really put off by his former profession. Everyone else begins to reach into the box, including the shameless Mimi. Valdez notices and promptly grabs Mimi’s hand before it reaches inside. “What gives?!” Mimi says shockingly. “Nah Mimi, you upped like 8 of these last night.” Valdez says. Mimi responds by looking at him as if he were crazy. Valdez shakes his head and wags his finger in front of Mimi. “Nah Mimi, don’t think I didn’t see ya. Feeling shameless today are we?” “Oh come on Valdez! No fair! Please just-- let me have one!” Mimi begs. Valdez chuckles as he is getting a kick out of the begging Mimi. “Tch. Well, I’ll tell ya what. Why don’t I put this delicate situation to a vote. Who thinks Miss Exaggeration here should get a soda?” Valdez asks. Liza, Ashton, Yvette, and Fausto even raise their hands. “Just to prove I’m not petty.” Fausto comments. “Well okay. The court rules that Aranza Arguello gets to drink her 50th soda this week!” Valdez exclaims. Mimi smiles. “Yes! That’s why I love you all!” Mimi then reaches for a soda and grabs a cherry. Valdez follows up by placing the soda next to the basket and sits next to Mimi. “Yeah, well. It’s time for Valdez to chow.” he says, reaching for a sandwich. Moments pass and the friends continue to eat and laugh. Yvette looks up at the sky, and Fausto notices her. He nudges her on her shoulder to get her attention. “Hey, what’s wrong Yv? You don’t look too happy.” Fausto asks. Yvette turns to face him. “Well, it’s just that-- this “Breakfast Club” is missing a member…” she says. Fausto stops eating. “You’re talking about Lucas right?” He asks somberly. Yvette nods. At the mention of Lucas, everybody stops eating and soon does Valdez as well when he sees everyone halt. Fausto places a hand on Yvette’s shoulder. “I’m not saying he’s dead but--” “You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t. I shouldn’t get my hopes up, I know. But he’s a friend, one of us! We all miss him, and the thought of him either being dead in a ditch, alone, or even him being a flesh eater makes me sad.” Yvette replies. “He wouldn’t want us to miss him you know.” Mimi says. “He always took care of us, wanted the best for us. Helped us when we were in trouble.” Liza adds as well. “He even helped me…” Ashton says. The atmosphere around the picnic became heavy and no longer lively in an instant. But then Valdez gets an idea. “You know, I may not have been as tight with Lucas as ya’ll, but you guys should be celebrating him. I mean, looks like he was a big part of ya’lls lives.” he says. Valdez has a point, and everybody knows it. So it’s Fausto who raises his can of soda first. “To Lucas Delgado, a great friend and a hell of a guy!” Fausto exclaims. A second later, everyone else raises their soda containers, be it cans or plastic bottles and repeats. “To Lucas!” and proceed to take a drink out of their hot sodas. The atmosphere was back to normal. ---- The loner Curly observes each and every one of the people involved in the picnic, behind a well-secluded tree in the far off distance. He watches them talk and laugh, enjoying themselves and the company of others. While looking at this, Curly feels a ripping mix of emotions. He’s jealous, envious, yet happy when he sees them. He wishes, urges himself because he so wishes to have that-- what that group of friends has. So what’s Curly to do? That particular group of people dislikes him, and there’s no other being his age hanging around the marketplace. This is all that he can do. He is reduced to observing the group from across an abyss, feeling like one them from a distance, vicariously. Sadness, anger, but also happiness are all found running rampant inside of this young man’s head. Throughout the last five months, Curly just hasn’t clicked with any members of the group. They all either dislike him, pity him, or don’t care for him. It’s not to say that Curly isn’t a flawed dick and that most of these feelings held against him are justified. Curly's own views on the group faltered and changed depending on who you ask him about. First and foremost, Curly despises Fausto the most. Nerves always get pulled on each side and conflict erupts between both with frequency. One would think that being trapped with a guy for a month and a half, would actually be a good thing, something to better the relationship. But no, Fausto and Curly will probably never make amends. For whatever reason… Curly, to state explicitly, does not give a flying shit about either Valdez or Ashton, specially the latter. He keeps his distance from the duo at all times. Valdez is admittedly a hard guy for him to hate, since he’s shown even Curly some suave, so that’s where his feelings about that locate. Just, no hatred or care. But Curly is a member of the norm, and thus his hatred for Ashton stemmed from the general hate towards the former juvenile delinquent. Hell, Curly is only familiar with about 2 or 3 of Ashton’s crimes yet he unloads his full hatred on him. His slow change to hero is also something he sees as a sham. No amount of good deeds done by Ashton will ever change the way he feels. Curly still refuses to even thank him for getting him out of the prepa. To him, Ashton shall forever be the puddle of mud lying in the way for people to step on. But...Curly’s feelings differed drastically for the girls. Each and everyone of them, he adores. He finds all three extremely hot and beautiful. Mimi, he gets a kick out of and could just kiss over and over again. Liza brings about some of his fantasies, keeping those with him each night. Lastly, to him Yvette is just...absolutely perfect. The only thing he looked forward to seeing while trapped inside that hell hole of a school was her. It was borderline obsession, really. As Curly thinks his heart about the group he’s observing, he is spotted by somebody. Rather than it being a member of the group, it’s the one man who he deems to respect. Soon, Mr. Timon Zarez approaches him from behind, but makes his presence known with his steps, so as to not startle him. “Son...are you spying on Yvette and her friends again?” he asks. Curly turns suddenly, devoid of shock. Not the first time obviously. “Nah. I was just minding my own shit when I saw them. They have sandwiches, and fucking soda. I don’t know how, but shit I want some.” he replies. “Look Curly...you do not need to lie to me. I know you feel alone, especially at this current era we are living.” “Yeah, alright. Ya got me Zarez, I’m jealous. How come their little group of besties gets to be all be together, while I’m stuck with myself. Man, my compadres and I would be living shit up.” “I know Curly, I know they are very fortunate to all continue to be united. But, you cannot blame them for it. God kept them united for a reason. Maybe it is time you make your own amends, son. Someone your age needs friends to have fun with. Maybe those friends do not have to be them if you do not want them to be, but there is someone here for you. Looking for them is always a free option.” he lectures. Curly appreciates this, and nods. “I just, don’t wanna get used to the solitary life. Fuck I mean, me and my compadres owned the bar every weekend. We was all dancing, fucking chicks and shit. Man, even the crudas were worth it.” Curly tells Zarez. Zarez understands the boy and ceases his worry for him. “If you want to drink Curly, Gustavo Texta is always in the mood for that.” Zarez says. “Well, there are matters I need to attend to in the classroom. Take care boy.” Zarez adds. He turns around and walks back the way in which he came. Curly then has a choice, either continue to stare and stalk this group of kids or rather, find something good to do instead. “I’ll leave in a few.” Curly thinks to himself as he watches Yvette laugh and playfully shove Fausto. ---- Zarez continues to walk, far and in between past the zocalo. He enters a tall building. In fact, it’s the same building that Scorpion and El Kanguro were hidden inside of earlier in the day. Zarez is not reluctant to begin walking up the steps to the “tower”, as Gustavo has taken to calling it. But first, he glances back and remembers to shut the door behind him. Now walking up the steps, Zarez keeps moving until he is at the very top floor. Once there, they’re all there. He is not alone and did not count on being so. All gathered up inside the room are Paloma, Jesus, Jose, Sandra, Mario, Daniel, and Santiago. Gustavo Texta stands tall in the back of the room, right next to window the cartel used everyday to spy on them. “Alright...now that you’re all here, we have some fucking shit to discuss. Old Mendoza didn’t want me telling until after Christmas, but I say fuck to that. This is some serious shit that you all need to know right fucking now.” he begins sternly. “I can’t be that bad...right?” Jose asks. “Oh, it’s very fucking bad alright. Even, catasfuckingtrophic!” Gustavo states. “I’m starting to get the idea…” Paloma says with slight annoyance. “Heh. I knew it. Tell us, because if it’s what I think it is, we might be fucked.” Santiago blurts. “Sigh...the fucking cartel is back on our shit.” Gustavo says. Reactions were just as he expected them, shocked. All except Santiago’s. “I knew it was a matter o’ time. I used to see them walk around randomly when I was drifting. I hoped they wouldn’t come, but, well shit.” Santiago adds. “If you fucking knew why didn’t you say anything?” Mario intervenes, getting all up in Santiago’s face. “Hey watch it, pal. Don’t want us to scurry now, do ya?” Santiago reacts. “Will you both calm down? Shit. Every time it’s me breaking up fights.” Daniel says as he stands in between both Mario and Santiago’s little exchange. “Hey guys, can we please quiet down? I don’t think Texta is done talking yet.” Jesus comments. All the while, Zarez keeps quiet. He thinks about the situation at hand, and he tries to think of what’s best. “Yeah, I ain’t done fucking talking. So shut it.” Texta commands. “Look, we didn’t think we were done with these fuckers after we took out that first wave with Joaquin in June, but over time we got too fucking comfortable and now those assholes are back. They’re gonna fucking attack again I know it. They’ve given us a head start, so we need to start thinking about our shit.” Texta says. “But not a fucking word of this to anyone else not present. If that happens, Mendoza will know and fucking Christmas will be ruined for the kids and families.” “Man, I still can’t believe this. Again? We got hit badly the first time.” Jose says. “But look, this time we have a shot.” Daniel says. “How so?” Sandra asks. Flashes of her pulling the trigger of that shotgun re-emerge in her head. But her stomach still lacks butterflies. “We have more guns and people now. I’m sure we can think of something.” Daniel explains. “We have something a lot more important too..” Paloma adds. “Which is?” Mario asks impatiently. “Time. We know when they may be coming. By then, we are going to have everything ready.” Paloma adds. “Hey, Pal’s got a point. This is getting better. We might have a shot!” Jesus exclaims. “Don’t fucking celebrate yet.” Gustavo halts. “We don’t know how many of these fuckers are out there.” “...I have a pretty good idea.” Santiago says, In a split second, everyone turns to look at him. “You see, I was taking some refuge in Nuxco, because I figured the cartel wouldn’t fuck with anything past Tenexpa for some reason. I don’t remember why I thought that, maybe I was just tired and needed an excuse. But what I’m saying is, the cartel came, and they came hard. Maybe like 50 of them, each of them with a pretty big gun. They found people I didn’t even think were still there! Man, bodies everywhere…” Santiago clutches his fist. “Luckily for me, they never saw me.” “See, that’s what I fucking mean. We have half of those able bodies at most, and over half more that can’t fight to save their lives!” Gustavo rages on. While he takes a second to calm down, Sandra speaks up. “Look...this sounds bad, I know, but we need to worry about the Christmas celebration first…” “Seriously? I mean, no offense, but the cartel is gonna march here any day now and you want to worry about the Christmas party?” Jose asks. Sandra nods. “Look. This may be the last Christmas any of us live to see! We need to see it as what might be our last moment of peace...I know this situation sounds grim, but there’s always a place for happiness, and this is it.” she finishes. Heads complicate themselves with thoughts. Mario is the first to nod in agreement with Sandra, and they both smile at each other. Paloma and Jesus are next, and eventually so are Jose, Zarez, and Santiago. This leaves both Daniel and Gustavo out of the rumba. “Agh...fuck. Fine. We focus on our little Christmas bash shit first. But as soon as it’s 12 PM after the fucking 25th, we get our asses straight.” Gustavo comments on the ordeal. “I’m going to start thinking about it now. This cartel business sounds too dangerous to brush off. This is my choice.” Daniel states. “Whatever the case, we all need to stay united and the children need to continue to be safe. It is up to us that they survive.” Zarez adds. “Yes, I agree.” Paloma says, uncomfortably rubbing her left elbow. Jesus notices this and eyes Paloma suspiciously. Slight flashes go through Paloma’s head but they’re...clouded for the time being. Jesus also notices that her satchel is empty. “They are our future, the future of every single thing. They need to live to see tomorrow. If they perish, then so does everything we have worked so hard for, all year.” Zarez adds. Eerie winds fly in through the window and everyone quiets down for the moment. They all know what they need to do and how long they have to do it. If they want to keep going forward, then the cartel needed to be fought off, more so exterminated. It was that simple. By being called here by Gustavo, their roles were handed to them. They are to be the protectors of the Tecpan Safe Zone. They are the force of survival that hope so intimately tails behind of. “I’ll stand by you people...even after the storm.” Santiago states. Soon after, they leave the “tower” behind. ---- The day’s intensity rains down on Pepe’s aching body. The weather and fate were beginning to play their cards on the future of the safe zone, and Pepe’s fatigue was one of many fatigues to follow the rest. Pepe begins to spot the safe zone’s walls up ahead in the distance, and this has him smiling. But...nobody else must know that he was sent out earlier by his sergeant. No one can feel the threat of the cartel...at least not yet. Pepe reaches the farthest out wall to the safe zone, deep into La Reforma. He sees the guard standing guard with his rifle on hand. While Pepe could just easily walk right to the gate and ask to be let in, his current, fatigued look would bring on too much undesired suspicion. So Pepe is forced to gruelingly wait for the guard to either leave or turn. Thankfully, the shadow cast the the tree he hides behind provides him shelter from the sun’s rays. After what seems like an eternity, the guard takes a break and leaves the wall vulnerable. Pepe wastes no time scaling the wall and sooner than not, he’s made it over. Next, Pepe sticks to the shadows, sneaking back to the marketplace. ---- Jaime fiddles around with a knife, one that isn’t his. He observes it, sees his reflection in the steel of the blade. Jaime appreciates the hilt which allows for a comfortable, yet incredibly firm grasp. The perfect item to take a life. Jaime smiles regardless. This knife has to be very expensive, too far off from his wage. Mendoza sits on a chair in the other side of the room, behind a desk. This is his marketplace both men were waiting in. Eight hours had passed since Mendoza sent Pepe out to follow Scorpion and El Kanguro back to whatever base both held stronghold in. But the worry was beginning to get to Mendoza, so he just sits there and waits. Tapping his foot impatiently, Mendoza ponders on about possible outcomes for Pepe’s fate, as much as he knows that he shouldn’t. He couldn’t focus on his best man being killed or trapped at the hands of either the cartel or groseros. If there is one thing Mendoza holds the highest about Pepe, it is the man’s perseverance, with ignites the faith Mendoza has in him. But soon, these thoughts matter not, because Pepe walks in right through the office door. He’s visibly fatigued, but otherwise good and uninjured. He pants slightly. “Sir, I followed them as far as I could-- but, we know where they’re hiding now.” Pepe states. He’s visibly comfortable. “So our hunch about Tenexpa is right, I take it.” Mendoza asks, Pepe nods. “They have all-terrain vehicles too, it seems. And they’re quite sneaky, at least Scorpion and his croney.” he adds. “What’s stopping all of the from coming here and taking shits all over us?” Jaime asks. “Mostly infected. There too many standing from here to Tenexpa, still. The aid of the bridge is gone too, like the rumors stated.” Pepe responds. “They just needed to wait a little longer then. They can wipe out the infected, but it’ll take them time. That’s why they offered us a head start-- they had no other choice.” Mendoza says. “...that, and old Don Tucan is still planning out the move.” “He’s a calculating bastard.” Jaime comments. Pepe nods and looks at the confiscated weapons. They’re big and powerful, for sure. “Sir, do you think they all have the same kind of weapons or that those were personally owned by the hit man duo?” Pepe asks. “I can’t tell for sure. Scorpion especially, is notorious for his hoarding of weapons. But, at the same time, Don Tucan sticks to the best artillery. It’s best to assume that they’ll all be armed evenly.” “So we’re outgunned and outnumbered? I’m hoping they don’t completely destroy us.” Jaime says. “They will not. We will not go down without a fight. This is also why we have been training troops and practicing shooting with everybody-- for times of reckoning such as this!” Mendoza replies. Pepe and Jaime exchange looks, and then nod in agreement. The march to what may be war was afoot. “Now...go rest. The three of us have a long day tomorrow” Mendoza orders. Pepe and Jaime exit the marketplace per ordered. Jaime however, drifts from his house, to Paloma Avila. She stands next to a tree, still rubbing her elbows and pondering. So vulnerable...so very, very vulnerable. He grimly smiles and throws the knife. Paloma, who does not see him, leans her arm against tree, while sighing. The knife doesn’t hit her, but it does however, create a small cut as the knife sinks into the wood, right next to her arm. In a brisk second she turns to see who it came from, and her gun is aimed in an instant. It’s just Jaime, smiling. “Fancy knife you got there. Sorry I took it...but it’s just that, crimson makes the steel look so beautiful. “Leave! Leave my sight Jaime! I have no intention to feud!” Paloma states firmly. There's some hysteria to her tone, but not a lot. Jaime raises both arms in the air and smiles in a mocking matter. “Whatever you say, puta.” he states winking. He then turns around and walks away, but not before turning to smile at Paloma one final time. Watching Jaime Carbon walk away, the thoughts that are currently filed in Paloma’s head become much more complicated. But…she turns to her knife, with the intention of retreating it. But Jaime was right, the crimson drops of blood did make the knife look beautiful. ---- Max walks side by side with his mother Sandra, accompanying her to the interior of the marketplace. He’s confused as to why but Sandra instructed him to keep quiet and ask little questions. When both enter the marketplace, Max is spooked. This is the first time in a while that he’s seen the marketplace at nighttime, and for many reasons it scares him. So in response, he sticks even closer to his mother. Grabbing a pair of keys from her jean pocket, Sandra turns to a door, the medicine storage room door. Unlocking the knob and turning it open, Sandra and Max walk inside. “Mom...I’m scared.” Max tells her. She rubs the top of his head. “Don’t worry cherub, I’m here.” she tells him. Max forces himself to muster an awkward, closed-lip smile and nods. Sandra urges Max to enter the storage room. Once he’s inside, Sandra follows behind him. She turns to look back outside before quietly closing the door behind her. There, Sandra flips a switch, revealing a large white container with many cabinets. But next to it, are some curtains, and Sandra walks past them. There, her and Max see it. Sandra’s autopsy patient, a grosero restrained to the bed. But...it’s not the same. It’s evolving, changing, and too fast. Sandra sees it and gulps, before grabbing her surgical knife and placing a medical mask over her face and nose, ready to make an incision. Max watches, unsure what to feel. ---- Mendoza continues to sit in his office, even though it is now nighttime. Late nights are usual for him, in fact, early turn-ins are a rarity for him. But today’s developments, the threat they bring, they alter him. Tonight he isn’t thinking about managing supplies, no sir. Tonight, he thinks about injustice. Injustice is just one of the many things wrong with this country, and the cartel is one of the many constant reminders of its existence. So he closes his eyes and peers back, back to a crude memory, produced by one man’s hunger for justice… --- The date is undisclosed, but it’s somewhere during the late 1990s. Parked on the side of some dark, barren road at night time is a brown Honda. Nothing too fancy by any means, in fact it looks old and damaged. Inside, there is a driver, a man. This man is not unknown, as it is in fact sergeant Jorge Mendoza. He looks noticeably younger and possesses both of his eyes. Yet...they’re so full of fury. He listens to the radio, right in the dark of the night. The local news are on it, and the current bulletin alerts the nearby towns and cities to be on alert for something, or rather--- someone. “Be on the lookout for Rodrigo Arizmendi Lopez alias “The Face Cutter”. Over the past week, at least a dozen bodies have popped up in rivers, parks, and ponds of the region, ranging from locations between Acapulco de Juarez and Chilpancingo de los Bravo. The typical trait these bodies share is the mutilation of the nose, eyes, and ears, as well as heavy severing of the lips. He was last spotted on the freeway intersection between Acapulco’s city limits and a nearby toll both. Lopez allegedly drove a red Toyota, revving up speed far past the legal limit. Be on the lookout for any suspicious activity while driving out tonight, especially if you go about it alone. This has been Chavo Contreras--” Mendoza cuts the radio broadcast off. Alone in silence for many moments, he sees many cars drive past him, their lights on to avoid falling off the cliff. Mendoza waits patiently, staking out for the killer he knows is nearby. This whole month is supposed to be his to enjoy with his family...but instead Mendoza has spent it tracking down a notorious serial killer. He’s seen him once, and he plans to only see him 2 more times-- as a corpse lying on the ground in front of him and as a corpse on his television set. He watches the arms on his wrist watch turn the minutes and the seconds, rotating fully several times. But Mendoza perseveres, he’s here to do something, and that, he will seek out to the very end. A plethora of cars drives past and yet none are the car he looks for. Mendoza looks at his watch and smiles. It’s almost 12 AM...the darkest hour. He shouldn’t wait much longer. The road continues to have less and less vehicles until they become recurring. Only one vehicle passes by every 20 minutes, and this was exactly what Mendoza needed. Figuring he should get ready now, Mendoza puts on a pair of plastic surgical gloves. They’re a nice, perfect fit that prove hard to break. He continues to wait until the execution date comes. The red, worn down Toyota pulls up next to his car, and Mendoza can see the man’s skinny silhouette clearly. Rodrigo exits his car and walks up to Mendoza’s-- but, he stops halfway. Mendoza emerges from his vehicle and he too walks towards Rodrigo. “Rodrigo Arizmendi Lopez...aka the Face Cutter. I’ve been waiting for you.” Mendoza tells the man. “I wanted you to be a pretty woman...but you’re a pretty man instead. It’s okay, I like pretty men too.” Lopez says. “Those eyes you have are so...pretty. Let me have them, and I’ll kill you first so you don’t suffer.” he adds. His speech patterns are abstract and jittery, clearly he is demented. Mendoza smiles. “If you find me that favorable, then why don’t you come and take me?” “With pleasure…” Rodrigo draws his bloody knife from the interior of his pants, near the crotch area. A terrible place to keep a blade. He charges at Mendoza, wailing. Rodrigo expects him to be spooked, but Mendoza isn’t even slightly fazed. Rodrigo, none the less, is going for the fatal stab to Mendoza’s heart. Mendoza stands still, calm. Even with Lopez approaching very speedily, he doesn’t even break a sweat. “I hate scum like you, Lopez…” Mendoza then delivers a devastating kick to Lopez’s abdomen. The serial killer doubles over in pain but he stands back up. He’s furious and charges yet again...but. This time, this certain time, he isn’t so lucky. Mendoza grasps the wrist of the hand Lopez was going to use to puncture him. Mendoza grips down hard on Lopez’s wrist, causing him to cry out in pain. “WHAT ARE YA DOING?! STOP! I’M SUPPOSED TO KILL YA!” Lopez screams in horror. Mendoza’s next move is simple-- all he needs to do is force Lopez to stab himself with his own knife right in his heart. Mendoza’s raw strength is more than enough to accomplish his task. “PLEASE, LET ME GO! I CHANGED MY MIND, I DON’T WANNA KILL YA ANYMORE!” he begs. “PLEASE, MY BEAUTIFUL EYES AND EARS IN MY CAR, THEY WILL GO BAD!” he continues. This hit a nerve in Mendoza’s head. A serial killer asking to go free to go out and enjoy the spoils of his murders. No. Mendoza will not have this. “Hell. That’s where you belong, Lopez.” Mendoza’s rage takes over him and he uses his brute strength to brutally force Rodrigo to maim his own stomach. As Lopez opens his mouth to make way for blood, he stares at Mendoza’s face. The gritting of his teeth and the blazing of his eyes, they mean blood lust, they mean fury. ...they mean that Lopez will be dead. Mendoza grunts loudly and finishes the job, forcing Lopez to sink his own knife into his poor heart. Lopez squeals faintly in pain and Mendoza lets him go. Lopez collapses flat on his back, with the knife planted right in his heart. His eyes remain wide open, yet lifeless. His hands no longer twitch, and the blood outside of him moves. Mendoza stares down at the man...but his eyes, are those of a mad man. “Solo asi se consigue la puta justicia en este pais!” he yells. Mendoza drives off not too soon after, but Rodrigo lies there rotting, stinking up the soil underneath him… The next morning, Lopez’s corpse is found by the police and is promptly featured in the news. They rule his death a murder...but the killer left behind no trace. Then the television is turned off, and Mendoza holds the remote pointing right at it. He smiles. Trivia *Rogrido Arizmendi Lopez was loosely based off of Daniel Arizmendi Lopez, aka "El mochaorejas", a convicted serial killer from Mexico currently serving time for his crimes. Category:A Long Road to Fortune Category:A Long Road to Fortune Issues Category:Issues Category:PBR Sharpshoot Stories